


The Happy Angel

by Magnolia822



Series: Aziraphale and Crowley Bingo Fun [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Character Death, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fairy Tale Retellings, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Getting Together, Good Omens Bingo 2021, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Other, References to Oscar Wilde, Sad with a Happy Ending, The Happy Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: Oscar Wilde's short story The Happy Prince, Aziraphale and Crowley style. With a twist.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Aziraphale and Crowley Bingo Fun [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114559
Comments: 16
Kudos: 50
Collections: Good Omens Bingo 2021





	The Happy Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of my Good Omens bingo fills (prompt - 'fairytale'), and I apologize to Oscar Wilde, wherever he is, for the liberties I have taken with his text. If you haven't read the original story, you can find it online - some of the text below is borrowed directly, with some very pointed alterations. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Once upon a time, long ago, there was a bustling town filled with many people, and above the town on a tall pillar stood the beautiful statue of an angel, resplendent with gold. His blue eyes sparkled with the finest sapphires, and he held a flaming sword, upon the hilt of which was embedded a large red ruby. On his head, a golden halo shone brightly in the sun and illuminated his hair, which almost looked as though it were made of cloudstuff rather than metal and stone._

_Everyone in the town admired him for his beauty and his smiling face. When children fussed or cried, their parents pointed and said, ‘why can’t you be like our happy angel? He wouldn’t ever cry over something so trivial.’ This didn’t do much to stop the children from feeling terrible of course, but it did stop them from crying._

_One day, a serpent was slithering through town, looking for mischief to make. Usually, he contented himself with whatever opportunity he came across - letting cattle out of their pen, scaring chickens out of laying eggs, biting holes into newly mended socks and such. It wasn’t glamorous, but he was content with his lot, if a little lonely._

_The statue of the angel offered the perfect vantage for him to see what he usually could not, being so close to the ground. He decided he would use its height to survey the town and find his next quarry._

_He made his way up the hill and to the plinth upon which the statue stood, and then used all of his strength to climb to the top. Exhausted from the effort, he let his long body drape over the angel’s shoulders, and as he did so he marveled over the cut of the stones and the bright gold that made the angel’s handsome face even more lovely. It distracted him from his original purpose, and as the statue was warm from the sun, it lulled the serpent into a sleepy dose._

_A little while later, he was awoken by the feeling of something wet on his scales. Alarmed that it had begun to rain, the serpent lifted his head, but the sky was still clear, though night had fallen, and stars now glimmered above. Another drop fell, and the serpent coiled up in surprise when he realised the angel was crying. Silent tears slid down his immobile face and splashed onto the serpent’s body._

_He was so beautiful in the moonlight that the serpent was filled with pity._

_“Who are you?” he asked._

_“I am the happy angel,” said the angel._

_“Why are you crying, then?”_

_“A long time ago, I was an immortal angel. I lived in a beautiful garden where it never rained, and I didn’t know what tears were for, everything was so lovely. But then one day everything changed; darkness came to the land, and I gave away the sword I had been given to guard the wall. I am still immortal, you see, but now I am trapped here as stone, forced to watch the humans in the city below as they toil in weariness and misery, and I cannot help but weep.”_

_The angel seemed vaguely familiar, and the serpent tried to recall if they had met before, but even as he grasped onto a memory, it slipped away. He only knew that he too had been expelled from a beautiful garden long ago, and he felt a kinship with the angel._

_“Far away, in a little house with crumbling walls there is a mother and a child. They are very poor, and through the window I can see the mother with her worn face and rough hands as she performs the most beautiful needlework for one of the queen’s ladies in waiting. In the corner, in a tiny bed, her son is ill from fever, asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but dirty water from the river, so he is crying. Serpent, will you please bring her the ruby from my sword, so that she can buy what she needs for her child?”_

_“I wassssn’t planning on staying around here much longer,” replied the serpent, not wanting to admit his true purpose. “I’m trying to find my own way back home before the winter comes.”_

_“Won’t you just stay one night,” asked the angel. “Please, be my messenger. The little boy is so ill, and he will not live much longer.”_

_The serpent thought about the boys he had known - many of them were cruel, and threw stones at him when he passed. “I don’t know if I like boys very much,” he said, “but I will do as you ask.”_

_He took the stone from the sword in his mouth and slithered back down to the ground. He made his way through the town, and as he passed by a grand house, a beautiful woman came onto the balcony with her lover and sighed. “I do hope my gown will be ready for the queen’s ball. Our seamstress is so lazy - perhaps I will let her go and find another.”_

_Gradually, the houses grew smaller and older. The smell of the streets worsened, and the serpent was almost hit by a bucket of waste being cast out of a second story window. Finally, he came to the little house with the open window and slithered inside._

_The mother had fallen asleep over her embroidery, which was quite perfect, and the little boy lay tossing in his bed in his fever. The serpent left the ruby on the small table next to his mother’s thimble and retreated, but not before pulling back the sweaty, soiled bedclothes and finding a cotton cloth to soak in water and apply to the child’s head. All of this was cumbersomely done, and the serpent wasn’t quite sure why he bothered, but then he remembered the angel’s tears and, feeling satisfied, he returned to the angel and told him what he had done._

_“It’s ssstrange,” said the serpent. “I feel warm and happy, but it is so cold out here tonight.”_

_“That’s because you have performed a good deed,” said the angel, who was no longer crying. The serpent wound himself around the angel’s neck and fell asleep._

_On the following day, the serpent again surveyed the land from the height of the statue, looking for someplace to work his wiles. He found he was only half-heartedly doing so, however, when the angel said to him: “My dear serpent, far across the city I see a young man in a garret, bent over books with fingers are stained with ink. He is studying at the university so that he may provide for his poor family in the country, but he can no longer concentrate on his work - he is weak from hunger, and so cold with no wood to light a fire in the grate.”_

_The serpent looked at the sword, and frowned, as much as a serpent could frown. “You have no more rubies to give away.”_

_“That’s true,” said the angel, “But I have these rare sapphires in my eyes. Take one to him and he will sell it to the jeweler and buy firewood and food. Then he will be strong enough to finish his studies and help his family.”_

_The serpent was loath to take one of the angel’s beautiful eyes. “Are you ssssure that’s necessary? There must be another way.”_

_“My dear boy, please do as I ask.”_

_The serpent couldn’t deny the angel, and so with great sorrow filling his chest, he plucked one of the sapphires and slithered off._

_When the young man saw the sapphire on his desk next to his well of ink, he exclaimed. “Ah, I must have some kind benefactor who wishes to see me succeed in my studies!” And off he went to the jeweler to sell the gem while the serpent watched from a dark corner, wondering if he should overturn the well of ink or rustle the pages of the books on the desk so that the young scholar would lose his place._

_In the end, he didn’t have the heart for it, and so he returned once again to the statue on the high hill. The night was chilly and cold, and the serpent’s body protested as he climbed to the windy heights, but once he was securely wrapped around the angel’s neck once again, none of that seemed to matter._

_The next morning, the sun did not warm the land as it had the day before, and the serpent woke aching and cold. He knew he should travel on to warmer climes, but the angel spoke again._

_“Dearest serpent, in the square below there is a little match girl. She has dropped her matches into the gutter, and if she doesn’t bring home any money, her father will beat her. She has no shoes or warm coat, and she is crying. Please, pluck out my other eye and bring it to her.”_

_“If I take your other eye, you’ll be blind.” The serpent’s pitiful excuse for a heart ached at the thought of his friend losing his sight._

_“Please, do as I ask.”_

_And so the serpent did. He brought the sapphire to the girl and laid it at her feet, and while he was there, he retrieved the matches, too. The girl was crying with her head in her hands, but when she saw the matches and the jewel, she cried out with happiness. The serpent didn’t stay to see more. He was already travelling back up the hill._

_“Thank you, dear boy,” said the angel. “But you must be going now. It is far too cold for you to stay here. You must find yourself a warm place to spend the winter.”_

_The serpent coiled more tightly around the angel’s neck. “No, I will not go,” he said. “You are blind now, and so I will stay with you forever.”_

_All the next day, the serpent told the angel of his travels, and of all the wonders he had seen. He told the angel of the pyramids of Egypt, and of the wall built in China; of the beautiful sea he had crossed on a boat, filled with monstrous wonders, and of the land beyond - a jungle filled with colors of blinding brilliance._

_The serpent did not tell the angel of the harm he had caused, of the people he had tempted. He only spoke of things he thought would make the angel happy. He was also afraid that if the angel knew his true nature, he would be despised._

_When he was finished, the angel spoke softly. “Thank you for your wonderful stories, my dear. However, to me, there is no more important thing than the suffering of humans - they are so fragile, so easily broken. Please, go down to the city again and tell me what you see, for I no longer have eyes.”_

_The serpent did as the angel asked. On his travels below he saw beggars in rags, sitting outside houses where rich people cavorted and dined. He saw a policeman kicking and beating a man selling bread in the rain, for he did not have a license to do so. Under the bridge, parentless children huddled together to stay warm._

_He returned to the angel with a heavy heart and told him what he had seen. The angel thought for a while. “Dearest,” he eventually said, “I am covered in gold. You must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to the poor.”_

_The serpent knew that arguing would get him nowhere. He complied, taking off the angel’s gold piece by piece, until even the angel’s halo was a dull slate grey._

_The serpent brought the gold to the suffering people, and soon the poor children had bread to eat, and fur coats to clothe their bodies from the cold. The bread maker was able to purchase a license to sell his bread, and the beggars found safe, warm lodgings._

_Soon after, the first snow fell, and the streets sparkled and glittered with brilliance. The town was quite transformed._

_The serpent, however, was growing colder and more tired by the day. He didn’t like to leave the angel to hunt, he loved him too well._

_At last, the serpent knew he was going to die, and so one day he climbed onto the angel’s shoulders with his last burst of strength._

_“Goodbye, my angel,” he said. “Will you please let me kiss your hand?”_

_“I am glad you are going to find a warm place at last, my dear,” said the angel. “You have stayed too long. You must kiss my lips goodbye, for I love you.”_

_“You should not love me,” said the serpent, “for I am cruel. I never told you of the wicked thousand, thousand things I have done.” It was hard to say this, but the serpent did so, hoping to spare the angel grief at his passing._

_“My dear one, don’t you know that I know you? I remember you from the garden, my own. You are the original tempter, the serpent, but deep inside you have a kind, generous and loving heart.”_

_The serpent could barely speak, he was so weak with hunger and cold, and so moved by the angel’s words. “I am going to the house of death, angel,” he said. “But I die happily.” And so he kissed the angel’s lips and breathed his last breath._

_At that moment, something inside of the angel cracked – his lead heart had broken._

_The next day, the mayor of the town found the angel with the dead serpent draped around his neck. The angel was grey, with none of his formal brilliance, and the mayor huffed and crossed his arms. “Our town is so prosperous and clean,” he said. “We can’t have dead snakes hanging around scaring people, and certainly this old statue should be removed. It’s looking quite shabby. Perhaps I can replace it with a statue of myself.”_

_And so the angel was taken down, and the snake with him, and the two of them were deposited together in the rubbish._

_On the following day, God said to one of her angels, “Bring me the two most precious things in the city.” She of course had seen the entire thing, as She sees all, and was feeling a bit guilty._

_The angel brought the dead snake and the angel’s broken heart._

_“You have chosen wisely,” said God. “And now the two of them shall live for evermore as guardians of Earth: the kind serpent and the happy angel.”_

_The angel, whose form had so long been encased in gold was made anew, and the leaden heart inside of him healed and began to beat a steady, gentle rhythm. He watched with wonder as his dearest love, the serpent, was made a man of a tall, fine build, with flaming red hair and a brilliant smile. The angel grasped the serpent’s hand, and the two of them went from the place of the Lord to wander the Earth again, together._

For Aziraphale, for your kindness. I don’t believe in happy endings anymore, except perhaps for you,

Oscar - 1898

***

Crowley set down the manuscript, thoughts buzzing around in his head. He hadn’t _meant_ to snoop. He was waiting in the back room of the bookshop while Aziraphale dealt with a few human customers who’d had the misfortune to wander in wanting to buy something. The humans were unusually persistent, and Crowley had grown bored and began poking around, as he often did, and discovered the few leaves of handwritten paper laying on the angel’s desk.

Of course, the second he had started reading, he’d been unable to stop. He had always been too inquisitive for his own good.

“Thank you very much, do have a nice day,” he heard Aziraphale call from the front of the shop, in a tone that very much said the opposite, and then the clanging of the door as the humans went on their way. It only gave Crowley a few precious seconds to resort the papers into the neat pile he’d originally found, fling himself back onto the sofa, and school his features into what he hoped was his typical nonchalant expression. 

Aziraphale came into the back room in a huff. “Well, I never!” 

“Sell anything, angel?” Crowley asked from his lounging position. As he said the nickname, he couldn't help recalling the story he had just read, and in spite of himself, his heart twinged. 

“That woman wanted to buy one of my Thackeray first editions. The nerve of some people these days.” 

“Indeed. Imagine having the gall of attempting to buy a book in a bookshop.” 

“And she was very put out about it, I can tell you. Madam, I don’t care if you are a rare book dealer for the Queen - some items simply don’t have a price tag.” 

Crowley’s jaw dropped. “Angel, you didn’t! The queen!” It never failed to delight him how adamantly opposed the angel was to selling his most prized books. Or any books, for that matter.

Aziraphale pursed his lips as he sat down at his desk. “Don’t pretend you have any fondness for the monarchy, Crowley.” 

“I have plenty of fondness for the royals! Do you know how much work they’ve saved me over the years? I never have to lift a finger with that lot - they do it all themselves.” 

“Be that as it may—” Aziraphale began, patting down the front of his jacket in search for his glasses, but then cut off, and Crowley froze. In his hurry, he’d dropped one of the sheets of paper from the story, and it lay by the angel’s feet. 

He watched, holding his breath as Aziraphale reached down and picked it up with both hands, as though it were a delicate bird, and a range of expressions passed over his face, finally landing on resolute as he turned back toward Crowley. The light filtering in from behind him picked up the dust motes in the air and lent him a faint, otherworldly glow. Crowley wondered how much trouble he was in for snooping. 

“Crowley.” 

“Yeah, I read it.” He pushed himself up to sitting and braced his hands on his knees. “Sorry. But if you want to keep something secret, you shouldn’t go putting it out for anyone to read.” 

“I wasn’t trying to keep it secret.” 

“Oh. So you knew I—” Crowley gestured vaguely, blowing out his breath.

Aziraphale nodded. “What did you think?” There was something stiff about the angel’s shoulders, and it took Crowley a moment to realise that the angel was nervous. 

“S’not the original.” 

‘No. He wrote it for me, after he was released from prison and went to Paris. I helped him all I could in those last days, but you know how it is. I couldn’t interfere with . . . God’s plan.” Aziraphale drifted off again, a flash of pain crossing his features. It made Crowley want to reach out to him, but they didn’t do things like that. “I . . . was feeling a bit put out with you, at the time, you know, sleeping away the century. I supposed I . . . missed you.” 

“And you told him about us? About who you are?” 

Aziraphale nodded again. “I told him everything, though I’m not entirely sure he believed me. Perhaps he thought I was speaking in metaphors. He did like an entertaining story. He’s the only person - human - I’ve ever told the truth to. I suppose if he did believe me it explains his late conversion.” He frowned, lost in thought. 

Crowley swallowed deeply.. He had always known the angel had been friends with Wilde, but he’d never known how close they were. He had never known that Aziraphale had confided in him. “Did you love him?” 

“Of course,” Aziraphale said simply. Crowley felt the words like a slap to the face, and it must have shown, because the angel rose up from his chair and came over to the sofa. “Not in the way of Eros, my dear. I loved him as a friend.” 

They sat side by side, closer than they had since that one night on the bus, after the Apocalypse that wasn’t, that night that Aziraphale had taken Crowley’s hand, and Crowley had hoped. 

“I left it out wanting you to read it - hoping it would say what for so long, I’ve been unable to say.” 

Crowley searched his face. His friend had always worn his emotions plainly, but he had never seen the naked vulnerability he saw there now. It occurred to him, maybe he hadn’t seen it because he hadn’t expected to. Maybe it had been there all along. 

“Do you really see me like that?” Crowley said, his voice shaky. “Do you think I’d sacrifice everything for you?” 

“I know you would, my dear, as I would, for you.” Aziraphale’s warm, square hand squeezed his own bony, clammy one. “And both of us, for this world that we love.” 

“And do you think that She,” he looked up meaningfully, “would approve?” 

“I don’t know. I hope so. But I no longer care. I love you very much, my dear one, in all the ways one can possibly love. I hope you will let me kiss you now?” 

“ _Let_ you?” Crowley let out the burst of laughter that had risen up in his chest along with joy. 

And so they kissed. It was not a last kiss or a kiss goodbye, it was a first kiss, a kiss hello, and it was as warm and alive and lovely as a kiss can be. Crowley’s lips buzzed with sensation, and the angel pressed against him, welcoming him in. It went on for a long time, and in the end as they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their eyes glassy and their clothing slightly askew. Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands, and Aziraphale did the same, and Crowley marveled that he could do this now – he could do this forever. The angel’s blue eyes twinkled. 

“Oscar would be so pleased,” Aziraphale said. And Crowley silently thanked him, and thanked him, and thanked him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Feel free to bookmark the collection, as I will be adding gradually to it throughout the year. Comments appreciated!


End file.
